Viva La Figgis Agency
by Red Witch
Summary: Cyril will do anything to keep his agency running. And that's not just a figure of speech.


**The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer characters has gone off to Mexico. This is just some fun little madness entering my tiny little mind.**

 **Viva La Figgis Agency**

"Okay, meeting time," Cyril called to the majority of the remaining members of the Figgis Agency.

Everyone groaned. "AKA Let's Waste Time," Pam groaned.

"Notice he only does this when Ms. Archer isn't here?" Ray said.

"That's not true!" Cyril snapped. "I did call a meeting with her here once!"

"Was it her idea or **yours?** " Lana asked.

"Actually…Shut up!" Cyril snapped. "There are a few items I want to go over."

"Hurry up," Pam said. "There's a bar I want to go over. And drink."

"Me too," Cheryl said.

"First of all," Cyril paused. "Our agency got another award. In recognition of our breaking the Long Water Case…"

"In the most reckless sense of the word," Lana groaned.

"Technically Lana we weren't responsible for the whole Long Water mess," Ray pointed out.

"Yeah we just made it twenty times worse than it could have been," Pam nodded.

"And we're getting an award for **that?"** Krieger asked.

"I thought we'd be shut down for that," Ray blinked.

"Me too," Krieger nodded.

"What the hell kind of award did we get?" Lana asked. "And who in their obviously insane minds would give it to us?"

"It's the New Small Locally Owned Detective Agency Of The Year Award," Cyril showed them the plaque. "From the Detective Agency Survey Agency."

"You made yourself another fake award, didn't you?" Lana groaned.

"Look this agency needs **some kind** of positive press desperately," Cyril looked at her.

"Hence the fake award," Ray remarked.

"Can't get any more desperate than that," Pam agreed.

"So basically, you went back to the place where you got your first fake award to get **another** one?" Lana groaned. "Way to use company funds Cyril."

"For your information, Lana," Cyril glared at her. "I got this award from another place. Who I might add was not only very helpful and friendly, they were extremely non-judgmental!"

 _"Seriously?"_ Lana asked.

"Well they are the same people who do the Grammys," Cyril admitted.

"That explains it," Krieger remarked.

"And they do a lot of other awards for this town," Cyril said. "Like the Mother of the Year awards."

"Aren't those usually given to the parents of those star kids that are out of control?" Ray asked. "Like Mindy Mohan?"

"Yes," Cyril said.

"I can see where the non-judgmental part comes in," Lana remarked. "But Cyril…Fake awards? You're definitely using Mallory's playbook here."

"Well in this instance she's **right!"** Cyril snapped. "Awards and commendations are good to put on this agency's resume. And they look good on the walls!"

"Even if they're **fake**?" Lana asked.

"It's not illegal, Lana!" Cyril snapped. "I checked! As long as you don't falsely say it's from an established agency or organization it's just fine! It's perfectly legal in LA!"

"He's right," Ray admitted. "If it weren't for fake awards half of Hollywood wouldn't have any."

"Half the industry in this town is built on fake awards," Pam realized. "So technically Cyril is just following the cultural norm."

"Exactly," Cyril took out a small statue of a businessman. "That's why I got myself the Small Business Detective Agency of the Year award. What? They had an introductory offer. Buy one get one free. It was a great deal."

"You gave **yourself** a trophy?" Lana asked.

"Well I deserve **something** for putting up with all of you!" Cyril snapped.

"Honestly I see his point," Ray admitted.

"Me too," Krieger admitted.

"You sent a picture of both fake awards to your father, didn't you?" Lana groaned.

"It's physical proof that the old bastard was wrong about me!" Cyril snapped. "Of course, I'm going to rub it in his face!"

"Phrasing," Pam snickered. "Wait, what if he reads the writing and…?"

"I made sure there was a small glare so he couldn't read the inscriptions," Cyril explained. "The point is, I have trophies. And my agency is **still standing**!"

"For now," Lana told him.

"Which leads me to the next part of the meeting," Cyril sighed. "We obviously need to tighten our belts until we bring in some more income."

"Cyril if our belts were any tighter, our waists would be cut in half," Ray looked at him. "You have us steal toilet paper from fancy hotels as it is!"

"You have to admit it is fun," Cheryl giggled.

"Fun for **you,** " Pam said. "You're stealing supplies from a hotel one of your cousins runs."

"Technically the Tuntagon is more of a condo complex slash business center," Cheryl explained. "But still fun to stick it to my cousin. Bitch."

"Be that as it may," Cyril sighed. "I've found we've had to take some desperate actions."

"How desperate?" Lana asked.

"For starters," Cyril sighed. "In addition to Krieger's homemade and I suspect highly illegal solar panels, we've had to siphon both water and electricity from our neighbors."

"That explains the occasional brownouts on our street," Ray groaned.

"And the next time any of you go to a fast food restaurant," Cyril added. "You might want to take a few extra things so we can keep our kitchen stocked. Napkins, straws, ketchup packets…. food."

"Way ahead of you," Pam grabbed her purse and went to a table near Cyril. She opened it up and several packets fell out. "Got a lot of mustard, sugar and hot sauce too."

"Hopefully not all mixed together at the same time," Ray winced.

"That tastes a lot better than you'd think," Pam told him. "But these are all sealed."

"Fine," Cyril sighed. "Item three of our budget tightening plan. The automatic alcohol delivery service."

Almost everyone gasped in shock and terror. "Really?" Lana asked. " **That's** what worries you?"

"You're not gonna cancel it are you?" Pam asked.

"Are you **insane**?" Cyril snapped. "Of course not. I just switched to a cheaper plan."

"Phew…" Ray let out a breath of relief. "For a minute you had us worried."

"I know right?" Cheryl asked.

"It was really simple," Cyril said. "I've just switched from all that expensive champagne and wine Ms. Archer orders to the cheaper domestic brands."

"Some of those five to nine-dollar wines are actually really good," Pam said. "Wait what about Ms. Archer? She's not gonna like that!"

"Please," Cyril waved. "You know that expensive champagne she has in her office?"

"The Grand Cru that she forbids us all to touch on pain of death?" Ray asked.

"We're aware of it," Pam said. "Selfish bitch."

Cyril explained. "It's actually Champale-Light. I just switched the labels."

Lana gasped. "Don't you think Mallory will notice?"

"She's been drinking it for the past three weeks," Cyril told her. "So, no."

"It does taste a lot like champagne," Pam admitted. "Has a bigger kick too."

"Which explains why she passes out faster after she drinks it," Cheryl realized.

"Is that why you had me print up all those fake labels?" Krieger realized.

"Yes," Cyril said. "That should have been a clue."

"Like we pay attention to those," Cheryl waved. "What are we detectives?"

"Apparently not," Cyril sighed. "So, nobody tell Ms. Archer that the nine-thousand-dollar champagne she's been guzzling like lemonade is actually nine-dollar Champale-Light."

"Since I'd like to keep what few original limbs I **have** ," Ray sighed. "I'm not saying a thing."

"Noooope," Lana nodded.

"It's kind of funny when you think about it," Cheryl giggled.

"And a little sad," Pam said. "Man, Ms. Archer really is upset if she can't tell the difference."

"This is the same woman who has drunk rubbing alcohol on occasion," Ray said. "Something tells me her taste buds aren't as sharp as they used to be."

"Well her **bullets** still are," Cyril warned. "No one say anything! Moving on…"

"Up?" Pam asked.

"To the East Side?" Krieger asked.

" _To a de-luxe apartment in the sky-y-y!"_ Ray sang.

"Shut up!" Cyril shouted. "Item Four. Since obviously this agency couldn't find a tree in Grand Park I have had to come up with creative ways to make money. And no one is more creative than Krieger…"

"Not always in a **good way**!" Lana said. "What crazy scheme has Krieger come up with now?"

"Remember Alejandro?" Cyril asked.

"Krieger's Mexican clone with the crazy meat," Cheryl nodded.

"What about him?" Lana sighed.

"Apparently he's started a bar slash mini vineyard business," Cyril sighed. "That the local cartel enjoys. And he's always on the lookout for new types of alcohol."

"Oh, please tell me you are not thinking of what I **think** you're thinking of!" Lana groaned.

"He is," Ray sighed.

"Krieger Valley is a great little wine," Krieger said.

"If you want to get completely smashed out of your gourd!" Pam said. "How can you grow those grapes anyway?"

"I have a hydroponic mini vineyard in the basement," Krieger waved. "Thanks to some special lights and some genetic splicing and a little grow formula…"

"Instant crazy fruit Kool Aid," Pam groaned.

"You're going to smuggle Krieger's homemade wine **into** Mexico?" Cheryl asked. "What have the Mexicans done to deserve **that**?"

"Apparently there's a call for it," Krieger shrugged.

"Nope! Noooope!" Lana shook her head. "I am **not** going to do that! And I won't let you do that!"

"Too late," Cyril said. "We already did."

"WHAT?" Lana balked.

"Whomp, whomp," Cheryl giggled.

"I already made a little trip into the desert last night with six bottles of wine and some seedlings in a backpack," Ray groaned. "Bionics or not that is a workout!"

"And here is five thousand pesos in cash," Krieger handed Cyril some money.

"I thought it was for ten thousand pesos?" Cyril asked.

"It was," Krieger nodded. "This is after my cut. And Ray's."

"I got three thousand. He got two," Ray said.

"He was the one running through the desert," Krieger shrugged. "That's fair."

"How much is that five thousand worth in American money?" Cheryl asked.

"At the current rate of exchange…" Cyril took out a calculator and tabulated it. "Holy…. Fifty grand."

" **Fifty thousand dollars** for six bottles and a couple of plants?" Pam gasped.

"Well the peso is really low now," Cyril said. "Which means I'd better get my ass to an exchange rate pronto!"

"There's one at the airport," Ray said. "Which by the way Krieger and I stopped at."

"And we got some lovely things at the airport gift shop," Krieger added.

"How about a ticket to Realistic Island?" Lana asked.

"That doesn't sound half as fun as the other islands," Cheryl said.

"Fantasy Island, Whore Island, Man-Whore Island, Danger Island, Island of the Misfit Toys…" Pam counted. "You're right. That doesn't sound like fun."

"Are we just going to keep sending Alejandro Krieger's crazy wine?" Lana asked. "Do I even want to know why we just can't ship it?"

"Well it is technically illegal wine so…" Pam paused. "Hang on…Does Mexico even have some kind of Wine Patrol?"

"It goes under customs," Cyril said. "They would take one look at the label and…"

"But what if we put a fake label on them?" Krieger asked. "So they could get through?"

"You mean send your wines under another winery's assumed name?" Pam asked.

"In other words, fraud," Lana groaned.

"It's technically not fraud if the person receiving the goods knows it's a knockoff and buys it anyway," Krieger told her.

"I think it is," Cyril frowned.

"You think?" Ray asked. "Great legal advice from our so-called lawyer."

"You know…?" Cyril looked at Ray.

"Well do you know a better way to ship more wine without your ass running all over the desert?" Pam asked.

"I do not," Ray admitted. "Let's go for the mail fraud."

"Is it actually mail fraud or just fraud in general?" Cheryl blinked.

"Technically mail fraud is when you use the mail to deceive or swindle the recipient of honest goods or services," Cyril explained. "Since Alejandro will know about the fake labels it's just regular fraud."

"You're only deceiving the Mexican government," Lana said sarcastically. "And technically the American one."

"Oh," Cyril blinked. "Well then yes. I guess it is technically mail fraud."

"This is a crackerjack detective agency if there ever was one," Lana groaned. "Full of cracked up nuts!"

"Are there nuts in Cracker Jacks?" Cheryl asked.

"Yes," Pam said. "How do you not know that?"

"Because of that song," Cheryl said. "The one that says: _Buy me some peanuts and_ _Cracker Jacks._ Well why would you **ask** for peanuts when there **are** nuts in Cracker Jacks in the **first place?"**

"Because…" Pam began. "Actually, that is a good question."

"Looks like Albert Von Tizler didn't really think that lyric through," Krieger remarked.

"Maybe he never had Cracker Jacks either?" Ray asked.

"How would Cheryl not know what a Cracker Jack is made up of?" Cyril asked.

"Because I never had Cracker Jacks!" Cheryl snapped. "What are they?"

"Caramel covered popcorn and nuts," Pam said. "And you get a prize inside!"

"What's the prize?" Cheryl asked.

"A cavity," Lana quipped. "Are we seriously talking about using mail fraud to make money here?"

"No, now we're talking about Cracker Jacks," Pam told her.

Cheryl added. "Try to keep up will you?"

"I think now is as good a place as any to stop the meeting," Cyril sighed. "Before I stop having the will to live. Krieger make it happen. Call Alejandro and set it all up. But don't put the Figgis Agency as the sending address. Use a fake one."

"Yup, yup, yup…" Krieger nodded.

"I'm going to a real bar," Pam stood up. "Anyone else coming? Phrasing!"

"Why not?" Cyril groaned as he threw up his hands.

A few days later…

"Hey Cyril!" Lana said as she poked her head into Cyril's office. "Remember that wonderful idea you had about shipping Krieger's illegal wine into Mexico?"

"What happened now?" Cyril sighed.

"Check out the top international story online," Lana pointed to the computer.

"Oh, that is never good," Cyril sighed as he did so. He read the article. "WHAT?"

Meanwhile in the bullpen of the Figgis Agency the rest of the agents were watching the large screen TV. Darlene Love was reporting at an anchor desk. "Topping our international news, a shocking case of abuse of power and breach of trust at both Mexican Customs and The Mexican Post office was unexpectedly blown wide open. And it was caused by a crate of wine."

"This does not bode well," Krieger blinked.

"Several top agents and staff in both Customs and The Mexican Post Office were arrested for tampering with the mail and theft when they became extremely drunk after consuming several bottles of wine that were being shipped," Darlene reported. "Apparently they intended to only take a few bottles and put the rest back. But they became so intoxicated, not only did they drink half the crate…They ended up exposing a system of corruption and theft going back decades."

Several half naked and naked people were shown wandering around an airport. And then at a post office. "Among other things…" Darlene reported. "Several of the individuals involved openly bragged about not only stealing items from the mail and customs for decades, they also named several high-ranking cartel leaders they were in league with."

A half-naked drunk Mexican man was happily blabbing to some reporters. A translator was overheard. _"I am telling you, it's okay to take stuff. We take stuff all the time. My boss Director Marcos Nevadone has a deal with both Ernesto Valehandro and Pablo Escado. You know those two men? Very connected! Well my boss has secret deals with both of them to sell some stuff on the black market. Don't tell them. Shhhhh…."_

Another half-naked man was giggling to some reporters. The name on the screen was Director of Customs Marcos Nevadone. The translator also translated what he was saying. _"Yeah? So what if I have deals with both of heads of different cartels? That's how you get ahead in this world. It's not just a Mexican thing. I know some people think that but we all know that it's not true. It was those damn Italians that started it. Just saying. What? So I make deals with the mob. So do my supervisors and their supervisors and their supervisors…Wow…That microphone is really shiny. Ooh, look at that pretty tall woman over there. Her head is so shiny…"_

"Several arrests have already been made," Darlene was shown again. "Including Marcos Nevadone. He was also arrested on public nudity charges and trying to sexually assault a lamppost."

"Oohh," Cheryl said. " **That's** why we don't smuggle things in the mail"

"To be fair," Pam said. "They shouldn't have been drinking on the job."

"And that's you saying it!" Krieger admitted. "Do you think Cyril knows about this?"

"KRIEGER!" Cyril was heard bellowing.

"Something tells me he's aware of it," Ray said dryly.

"KRIEGER!" Cyril stormed in with Lana. "What did you do you idiot?"

"It's not my fault there are some bad apples in the customs and mail offices!" Krieger protested. "Which really hurts the honest hardworking people…"

"I'm going to hurt **you!** " Cyril shouted. Lana restrained him from strangling Krieger. "I'm going to **hurt you!"**

"Quiet y'all," Ray pointed to the TV. "There's more!"

"The crate of wine in question was confiscated," Darlene reported. "And high amounts of Southern American Ultra Muscadine have been discovered. South American Ultra Muscadine AKA Crazy Fruit AKA Goofed Up Grape Juice AKA Mowie Wowie Juice has extremely powerful hallucinogenic properties as well as more potency than regular muscadines. It is banned in almost every nation in the world. Authorities are currently investigating where the wines originated."

"Oh God no…" Lana groaned.

"What label did you put those wines under?" Pam asked.

"Kriegermeister Winery," Krieger said.

"That's not an **actual winery**!" Ray snapped.

"Are you **sure?** " Krieger asked. "Because it sounds like someone would have that name."

"YES! **YOU!"** Cyril shouted.

"You think they could trace it back to me?" Krieger asked.

"HOW MANY KRIEGERS COULD THERE POSSIBLY BE?" Cyril shouted.

"You'd be surprised," Krieger chuckled.

"Then what address did you use?" Ray asked. "Oh God you didn't use our old agency's address, did you?"

"No!" Krieger said. "Don't be ridiculous. I used 4220 Arroyo Canyon Road."

"I **know** that address," Cyril blinked. "Where do I know that address?"

"You know it because our **first case** was there!" Ray snapped. "That's Alan Shapiro's house!"

"Wait, you used **Alan Shapiro's address** so in case something went wrong he'd get the blame?" Lana asked. "That's **hilarious**!" She started laughing.

"Well if Shapiro wasn't in trouble with the authorities before," Ray shrugged. "He is now."

"Good cover Krieger," Lana laughed.

"I thought so," Krieger grinned.

"This just in…" Darlene read from the prompter. "The two rival cartel leaders Ernesto Valehandro of the Noches Oscuras and Pablo Escado of the Fuego Del Sur…Have been executed by the own cartels when they were discovered in what appears to be a drunken tryst. Two bottles of the illegal and highly potent wine now known as Kriegermeister were found in the hotel room along with their bullet ridden bodies."

"Apparently their cartels didn't take that form of negotiation well," Pam remarked.

"Funny they have no problems with any kind of violent negotiation but…" Ray grumbled.

"There is now a war between the Noches Oscuras and the Fuego Del Sur," Darlene Love read. "With power struggles forming within both cartels."

"And we also started a gang war," Lana groaned.

"Technically Lana cartels are a step above gangs," Pam said.

"Not always," Ray said. "We were a drug cartel once!"

"I stand corrected," Pam remarked.

"You're sitting Pam," Cheryl blinked.

"I'm guessing it's back to me and my tennis shoes running in the desert?" Ray groaned.

"I think we should wait a while," Cyril groaned. "Until the heat is off."

"That might be prudent yes," Krieger admitted. "We're not telling Ms. Archer about this are we?"

"Nooooooope," Lana shook her head.

"I'm not planning on telling anyone **half** the things we've done," Ray remarked.

"I don't think anyone would **believe** half the things we've done," Cyril groaned. "I certainly don't."


End file.
